The Tangerine Flame
by Chibi Chiriko
Summary: A pairing you'd never expect to see... slight spoiler warnings for the conclusion of the WK anime storyline


The Tangerine Flame   
by Chibi Chiriko  
  
  
___________________________________________________________  
  
  
The anime/manga/drama Weiß Kreuz is copyrighted to   
Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Kyoko Tsuchiya, Bandai  
Music, Marine Entertainment and whatnots. No material  
profit is being made out of this; all canon characters  
were used shamelessly without permission from their  
owners. This fic is copyrighted 2000 Chibi Chiriko.  
  
___________________________________________________________  
  
  
  
It was while I was surfing the Web and absently wondering what  
I was going to do with "The Silence" (new name for "No Reason")  
and "Blasphemy" that the idea struck: Schuldich and Aya-chan.  
(I can just imagine all the O.o's abound ^_^;;) Together in a  
romantic sense? Maybe. *shrug* But I kind of like the idea.   
Or, if not in a romantic relationship, I think they could be  
good friends. I believe Schuldich would make for a fun,   
companionable older brother figure, Weiß vs. Schwarz feud aside.   
A friend of mine once mentioned that Schuldich was kind of like  
an overgrown kid, and I'm sticking to that idea. My characterization  
of Schuldich in this fic will be somewhat based on the manga  
translations at Aya no Weiß Kreuz corner.   
  
Possible spoilers for the last four episodes of Weiß. And   
while there are no warnings for graphic depictions of yaoi/hentai,  
extreme violence (though there *will* be some cussing...) it might   
do to remind you that this fic is NON-YAOI (so if you are particularly   
against the idea of straight pairings--it *is* possible--then  
please click away right now). Romance? We'll see. ^.~  
  
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
'Dreams. Hope. These are arguments of the weak.   
  
But there are no such things in this world...   
  
Light is feeble. Darkness is what makes darkness stable. It is  
everywhere, all the time. All I say is the truth. And those who  
can't comprehend this unfortunately won't pack up and leave for  
somewhere else other than here.'   
  
"It's still the truth," he whispered, fists shoving deep into  
his pockets as sunlight fell in golden showers around his sleek,  
sturdy frame. A cascade of brilliant scarlet tumbled down his   
shoulders, glinting like glowing embers in the radiant sunshine,  
ever burning, ever bright. He greeted the oncoming rush of   
humanity with pensive silence, an eyebrow cocked in a self-  
assertive manner, lips twisted upward in a humorless smirk.   
His jaunty gait had, for the moment, humbled itself to a stoic  
shuffle, his pace slow and carefully measured. Shadows   
occassionally flitted across the unshaded walk.   
  
The heat was unbearable. Even after several years of residence  
in Japan, he still couldn't get used to the sweltering blaze of  
the summer. It never came to this in Germany. In Germany, the   
streets were always cold, fogged with a chilly haze that had  
not only seeped to his skin, but went straight for the heart.   
But he preferred the euphoric cold to the scorching heat. It gave  
him an excuse to don expensive fur coats and thick piles of  
muffs and scarves. It provided the perfect opportunity to   
conceal from the public the scars that, even up to now,   
still marred his pale, beautiful skin.   
  
Scars led to questions. Questions led to either answers or lies,  
both of which impossible to produce within that proximity of time  
that would satisfy the inquirer. So it was much preferred to hide  
the scars, and keep the peace.   
  
But there were times when it was just *sooo* tempting to cut the  
pretense and tear all his clothes off. Like now, for instance.   
He knew it looked silly to be wearing thick clothes and long   
pants in the ungodly heat, and not only did it also feel silly,  
it felt as though his insides were scalding in a furnace. Yet he  
clenched his teeth (still maintaining that imperfect smirk) and  
silently urged himself to move on.  
  
Where was he going? He had no idea. Crawford had gone off for  
another job interview (and "No Schus allowed," he'd announced   
in that smug way of his that made Schuldich wish Schus *were*  
allowed), Nagi had taken Tot out on a date in the local ice   
cream parlor, and Farfarello... well, best not to dwell on what  
*he* could possibly be doing. As he wasn't in the mood to go  
about teasing Farfarello, he'd decided to go out for a walk and  
just relax. Of course, an hour earlier, it hadn't been this hot.   
He sighed as quietly and as discreetly as he could, not wanting  
the crowds to see that he was unhappy.   
  
... /He was unhappy.../  
  
A dizzying wave of heat suddenly smacked him in the forehead, and  
he winced almost visibly. Grimacing, he hurried over to the nearest  
shade flaring off the roof of a shop, sweat dripping down his   
forehead as he leaned against the brick wall. Gods, what was   
happening to him? He wasn't usually this easy to aggravate. It  
usually took more than just a stupid heat wave to bring him down  
like this. *Then... why...?*   
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin as the sound of something   
shattering screamed in his eardrums. Blood coursed rapidly through  
his temples as he yelped out a curse in German, sweat running down  
his face in colorless rivulets as he whirled around in startled  
fury, more at himself than at the source of the noise.   
  
And then he froze, heart forgetting to beat, at the sight of the  
face behind the window.   
  
  
  
The girl, too, looked startled to see him, yet the shock on her  
face was more of disappointment than of real surprise. Two neatly  
twined braids sat on shoulders as spirited sapphirine eyes peered  
intently into Schuldich's emerald gaze.   
  
"Forgive me, Sir," she was hasty to apologize. "I thought you  
were... someone else."   
  
He didn't have to read her thoughts to know who she'd assumed him  
to be. As he struggled to overcome the initial shock, he felt the  
blood pounding in his ears, the acceleration of his frenzied   
heartbeat as he stared at her, hoping the recognition wasn't so  
naked in his eyes. His fists gripped the concrete ledge of the   
window, nails biting deep into solid brick until brick connected  
with flesh, and blood flowed in a hesitant trickle.   
  
What was he to say? He honestly didn't know. Apparently, she didn't  
recognize him. Because he knew she would never apologize to him  
in that sweet, gentle way of hers if she did.   
  
"Sorry to disappoint you," he mumbled, straightening up. It was the  
least he could do on such a short notice, and he felt like running  
far, far away...   
  
"Wait," she called out, her voice breaking into his thoughts.   
"Aren't you going to buy anything?"   
  
His eyes darted up to the shop's name. *The Koneko no Sumu Ie...*   
He then glanced at the main entrance. It didn't strike him as such  
a big surprise to see that the horde of girls he had grown   
accustomed to seeing gathered there, squealing flirtatiously,  
was gone. Now that "the boys" weren't around to handle the place,  
the fans had probably decided there was no more reason to stick  
around. His gaze fell on the lovely young girl patiently awaiting  
his answer. Poor thing, she'd probably been bombarded with questions  
during the first few weeks of her term in the shop. *Not exactly  
the perfect way to resurrect a business,* he mused.   
  
"I'll take... two white roses," he decided suddenly, hands fishing  
around in his pockets for money.   
  
A lovely smile then graced her features as she beamed at him before  
turning around, twin braids flapping upward like little wings.   
"That'll be 5600 yen," she told him over her shoulder as she began  
to prepare the arrangement.   
  
A slight smile crossed his face as he produced the money from his  
pocket, green eyes observing her as her nimble, slender fingers   
went about selecting the roses and fixing them up. No longer than  
a few more moments passed before she was back, shoulders heaving  
from the speed with which she'd handled the preparations. Panting  
softly, she opened the window and handed him the flowers. Their  
fingers touched as there was an exchange of blossoms for money.   
  
The girl gazed up at him, a hint of nostalgia washing over her  
childlike features before concealing themselves behind that sweet,  
almost sad little smile. "Do come again," she whispered.   
  
What else was he supposed to say? "Of course," he said, his voice  
sounding surprisingly genuine to his own ears. "See ya around."   
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
The thing that surprised him the most, however, was the fact that  
he *did* return. It was after about five or six days, and rain  
was wept from the sky in chilly torrents, washing the city in a  
thorough soak. It was an unusual occurence in the summer, but   
Schuldich was grateful for it, as he could now dress as snugly and  
as comfortably as he wished, swathed in thick wraps of woolly   
sweaters and stuffy pants. A bright red knitted scarf was wound  
warmly around his neck.   
  
He found her sitting by the window, staring dismally at the gray  
heavens, as though wishing for something else to fall from the clouds  
besides the rain. He knew all too well what she was yearning for,  
and wondered if coming by had been a mistake.   
  
He would have turned to go if she hadn't noticed him at once, if  
her face hadn't lit up in that bright, familiar smile, hand lifted  
in a welcoming wave. Since when had he ever been received so   
warmly? And by someone from whom he'd ripped every last shred of  
happiness in the first place...   
  
Guilt swept over him.   
  
He was only too startled to speak when he suddenly found her at his  
side, an umbrella preventing the rain from drenching him any further.  
Innocent concern was all he saw on her face, and the sight of it  
wrenched his heart.   
  
"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here any longer," she said,  
practically dragging him inside. "You can stay inside until the  
rain stops; I won't charge you for it, don't worry."   
  
Stunned by her kindness, he could only allow her to lead him inside.  
  
As the door closed behind him, the pounding of the rain on the  
streets and on any solid surface within reach seemed to soften.   
He was immediately engulfed by the smothering scent of about a   
million different fragrances, all coming from the flowers in stock.  
A homey warmth flooded the room, and he reveled in it. Its   
unspoken intentions sang to his soul.   
  
The girl handed him a large, fluffy white towel, with diamonds  
embroidered on the side. "You'd better take off those wrappings,"  
she advised, peeling off the outermost jacket. "You'll catch  
something if you let them absorb the heat."   
  
"No, wait," he said quickly, a firm hand restraining her wrist. Wide  
eyes stared up at him in concerned surprise, and he suddenly felt  
foolish under that worried gaze.   
  
"I... I don't have anything to change into," he said hastily.   
  
"Oh!" Her face relaxed. "Well, don't move from that spot, okay?  
I'll be right back!" She pivoted noisily on her sandaled heel as  
she made a dash for the upstairs, skirts fluttering as she hurried.  
His arms went around himself as he waited, and he suddenly grew  
aware of the fact that he was dripping puddles onto the polished  
floor. Embarrassed, he tightened the large towel around himself,  
hoping it would prevent further dripping.   
  
The sound of clicking sandals on the steps of the stairs made him  
lift his head, and he saw her grinning as she held out an orange  
sweater and a pair of thick jeans. "You can wear this," she told  
him.   
  
He stared at the garments in her arms, suddenly growing pale as  
he remembered where he'd first seen them. *Holy shit, these belong  
to that older brother of hers--Ran!*   
  
"I--can't," he muttered icily, turning away.   
  
"Why not?" she queried. "I'm sure they'll fit you just fine."   
  
A dark, bitter smile curved on his lips where she could not see.   
*That's not it,* he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out.  
If only her brother could see what was transpiring during those  
tense moments! *He would never have allowed it,* he thought,   
feeling a tiny spark of satisfaction in the shadowed part of him.  
*But he's not here to control things anymore.*   
  
He turned back to the girl with his answer. "I'm sure they will,"  
he agreed, a cool little grin turning up on his lips as he took the   
clothes.   
  
Suddenly, he felt like his old self again.   
  
  
  
"They look good on you," she breathed admiringly, when he stepped   
out of the bathroom door.   
  
"That's right, isn't it?" he agreed. The sweater was a little tacky  
for his taste, but the fact that it looked better on him than it  
did Ran compensated for it. The jeans very nicely showed off his  
great legs, and the clothes fitted him perfectly. *You're not the  
only great-looking redhead around, Ran-kun,* he thought gleefully,  
feeling very pleased with himself. And the clothes hid the scars  
quite effectively, too.  
  
"Say, we've never really introduced ourselves," the girl said,  
a tad shyly, as the fingers clasped to her chest tightened. "I'm  
Fujimiya Aya." She extended her hand toward him.   
  
"Hajimemashite," he said in flawless Japanese. "I'm Schuldich."   
And as they shook hands for a brief moment, he suddenly realized   
that maybe he shouldn't have let his name slip. *Nah, never mind,*  
he carelessly rebutted the apprehension. *She doesn't even  
remember... right?*   
  
"Schul-dich." She tried the word on her tongue. "That's a strange  
name--what language is it in?"   
  
"It's German for 'guilty,'" he said, sitting down as she gestured to  
the proffered chair.   
  
"Did you name yourself 'Schuldich', then?"   
  
He nodded, then glanced out at the rain, which had reduced itself  
to a drizzle.   
  
Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "What are you guilty of,  
Schuldich-san?"   
  
He didn't quite know how to answer that.   
  
  
  
The sun was shining brightly as Aya escorted Schuldich out of the  
Koneko no Sumu Ie. She handed him his wet clothes, which she'd   
folded neatly and placed in a plastic bag. She was smiling, and  
yet she looked a little sad at the prospect of his having to leave  
so soon.   
  
"It was wonderful speaking with you, Schuldich-san," she said  
softly, placing a hand on his elbow. The skin beneath the sweater  
wool tingled at her gentle touch. "I hope to have another chance  
again soon."   
  
He gave her a hearty, reassuring smile as he patted her lightly  
on the shoulder. "Oh, you will," he said cheerfully, and despite  
the guilt that was plaguing his heart, he knew it was true.   
"I had a good time, too, Aya."   
  
She beamed, then bowed slowly. "You can keep the sweater," she  
said sincerely. "And... take care. Arigatou gozaimashita yo!"   
  
He lifted his hand in a jaunty wave, and soon disappeared from  
her sight.   
  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
  
"Sakura-chan."   
  
Schuldich smirked at the uncertainty on the face of the dark-haired  
girl. "Well?"   
  
Tomoe Sakura seemed to flinch at the tone of his voice, but held  
her ground as she lifted her chin defiantly. "Schuldich. What were  
you and Aya-chan talking about?" she demanded.   
  
"Our private conversations are none of your business."   
  
Sakura glared at him, despite her fear. "If you said something to  
her--"   
  
"Oh, don't waste your breath!" Schuldich exclaimed. "I said nothing  
to her that could incriminate either of us. And I said nothing to  
her that could possibly have hurt her," he added, reading the next  
question from her mind.   
  
"Please, just stay away from her," Sakura pleaded softly, earnest  
concern drifting across her ladylike features.   
  
"That's for Aya to decide." Schuldich's face was an impassive mask.  
"And I really don't think anything you tell her can change her mind  
about me, so don't bother or you'll just end up hurting her more  
than *I* could ever do."   
  
Recognition suddenly flashed across Sakura's face as she stared at  
the sweater. "I *thought* it looked familiar," she murmured, then  
raised frightened pansy eyes into Schuldich's icy green orbs.   
"That's--That's Aya-san's sweater, isn't it? Where did you get it?"  
  
"Aya-chan gave it to me," he said, his fingers caressing the   
tangerine material lovingly. "Oh, don't look so distressed, Sakura-  
chan!" he exclaimed loudly, upon seeing the look on her face. "When  
I see your precious 'Aya-san', you'll be the first to know, k?   
Till then!" He gave her hair a good tousling before walking away,  
laughing to himself.   
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Tangerine strips  
Swirl into a cyclone of  
Ever turning, ever whirling  
Masses of bright luminescence  
Like man's fate  
Spiraling downward  
Ever so rapidly  
Die inevitably   
  
*~*~*~*  
  
OWARI   
June 24th, 2000  
9:59 a.m.   
Tweaked: 2:18 p.m.   
  
1. The first few paragraphs enclosed in the '...' were taken from  
Jey-san's translations of the AAAWS manga 2, lines that were, of  
course, uttered by Schuldich.   
  
2. This fic sprung from the original idea of bringing out Schuldich's  
'oniichan' side by involving a non-canon character, but after   
considering a few details, I decided to just involve Aya-chan and  
Sakura, to make it more interesting. ^_^; This fic was fun to write.  
  
3. The closing poem is an original work of mine. I wrote it for  
the Magnificat tryouts yesterday afternoon. It's supposed to be my  
interpretation of a spiral and orange art paper. O.o;;  
  
4. The references to Schuldich's scars were taken from my own  
version of what happened to him during his past. Many fans seem  
to favor the idea of his having a pretty dark, tortuous past   
sprinkled with lots and lots of angst, and I like the idea,   
too. :Þ   
  
5. Please send all comments to chibichiriko@hotmail.com   
Take care, minna-chan! 


End file.
